A Bloom in Age
by Tastytime
Summary: Love does not always have to bloom in youth and beauty. There are other types of love, slower and deeper, and Jo and Laurie find such love. Set a year after Jo's Boys. Adhers to canon
1. Chapter 1

Title: A Bloom in Age

Fandom: Little Women/ Jo's Boys

Pairings: future Laurie/ Jo, present Jo/ Fritz, Amy/ Laurie

Rating: PG-13

Chapter: 1/?

A/N: This story has been designed as a way to believably get Laurie and Jo togther. It takes place after Jo's Boys, and adheres reasonably to the morality of the time, and I have tried to get the author's style to an extent. Neither Amy nor Fritz Bhaer are made hate figures.

Summary: Love does not always have to bloom in youth and beauty. There are other types of love, slower and deeper, and Jo and Laurie find such love. Set a year after Jo's Boys. Adhers to canon

Dipping her pen in the ink, and inscribing a final sentence, Jo, more formally known as Mrs Bhaer, laid it aside with a sigh, stretching her arms, relishing the freedom. She wasn't sixteen years old anymore, and writing no longer seemed such a joy as it once had, when she had thought nothing of spending hours working on a bit of poetry, or a short story. Now her bones seemed to ache a little more, and her once slender frame more lethargic than usual.

She stood, pushing the finished manuscript to one side, and making a mental note to remember to post it as soon as she could, and the maid came into the room. Mary shook her head. "Mrs Bhaer," she remonstrated. "You've been ill, you shouldn't be working so hard."

Jo smiled at her friend. "Nonsense. I can scarcely call writing work." Nonethless she sat back down a little hurriedly, feeling the inevitable weakness which came after a bad bout of influenza. Sitting on the comfortable sofa, she caught sight of herself in the mirror as Mary bustled in her comfortable way around, and felt a little shock of recognition. The illness had caused her to lose weight, and her face seemed all hollows and sharp bones, her eyes brighter than usual. More than anything she looked oddly young again because of it, which frightened her. She scolded herself sharply. Why she was only in her late thirties, and that was scarcely ancient. Even so, it was a shock to see the face she used to have looking back at her, and it prompted uncomfortable memories of her younger self. On a whim she let down her hair, still chestnut if a little faded, and let it fall around her face in the old way.

A knock came at the door, and without waiting for an answer, Laurie came in jauntily. In mortification Jo lunged for her hairpins, and began doing her hair back up, despising the vanity which had caused such a thing. Gentle fingers tugged at her hands, removing the hair pins. "Leave your hair Jo," commanded Laurie, and the old affectionate diminutive caused her hands to drop, and the flush to fade. He sat down beside her, talking of some minor thing, he'd had some news from Nat that he wanted to share, and she tried to listen, but the words seemed to escape her attention.

Finally she spoke. "Stay to dinner Laurie," she attempted a smile. "I'm afraid I'm still not very well, so I shall dine in here, but there is nothing to stop you from joining the table."

He looked at her, dark eyes shining mischeviously. "I'd rather dine with you," he said. Then adopting his old exaggerated pose, he flung himself down in front of her, the attitude as becoming to the man as it had been to the youth. "I beg you let me dine with you," he requested, and there was something more than joking in his manner, some deep hurt hidden in his eyes, that made her grant his plea with seriousness rather than a joke. He leaped up, and promised to see the kitchen to organise it, with more than his customary gratitude.

Jo looked out of the window. It was autumn again, and the leaves were all shades of brown, red, gold and green, swirling past her eyes. One of the girls had filled a vase with the long stemmed chrysanthems, and with delicate movements she opened the panes of glass, inhaling the air for one guilty moment, before slamming it shut. As she looked around the small comfortable room that served as both study and bower, she pondered on what she had seen in Laurie's eyes. He had looked broken, there was something almost desperate under the usual teasing words and actions, something belonged neither to Laurie the boy, nor the man she had watched grow. It was a look that she had seen before in Dan's eyes, one of misery and almost shame. Only in Dan's eyes it had been self-shame, while in Laurie's there had been something utterly different.

When he returned, she made no mention of anything wrong. Merely with the subtlety she had learned through years of dealing with masculine minds, she artfully inquired after subjects, watching closely for a reaction. Bess, the college, money elicited cheerful responses, but when she inquired as to how Amy was she saw the small flinch. So it was something to do with her youngest sister then. She left the subject with ease, but pondered the problem with stern thought, while making light hearted responses to his questions on the finishing of the book. Dinner arrived, just simple lamb, peas and boiled potatoes, with a piece of sponge cake to follow, and it wasn't until the dishes had been cleared away, and the lights dimmed that he felt safe enough, to drop down beside her and put his head in his hands. "Jo," he said quietly. "If I was to ask you to come with me and Bess to Europe for six months what would you say?"

She was struck dumb with amazement. Of all the things she had thought he could possibly say, this was the most unexpected. At a loss for words, she stumbled for a moment. "Laurie, I couldn't possibly, you know that. There are the boys, there is Fritz, my work even. Everything Laurie dear."

Laurie persisted. "Jo it would be just the thing for you. You're still ill, a convalescence in Europe would put you to rights, you know you've always wanted to go again, and I could show you everything. The boys would be fine, after all there are almost none of the old crew left, and if you wanted perhaps Teddy could come." This last said with a little reluctance. "Oh do Jo. Please." The last word was uttered with a look that tore at Jo's heart strings, and made her kinder in her reply than perhaps she should have been.

"Teddy, tell me what the matter is. I promise I'll think about it faithfully, but I need to know why. Why do you not want Amy to go with you?"

There was misery in the face lifted up to hers. "Oh Jo," he groaned. "I _couldn't _ask Amy to go with me. We are estranged in all but name, and have been so for the last six years." At the shock in her eyes, he smiled bitterly. "I am a rather good actor it would appear," he observed, then softening. "I am so sorry. I should not have told you, it will only hurt you this knowledge, will make you think the worst of me."

Jo could have shook him. "Laurie, I'm thirty eight and I've been looking after boys for eighteen years. I am scarcely shockable. I am dismayed, and sad for you both, but Laurie I could never think the worse of you, you should know that." She ended with a soothing caress. "Now if you wish to tell me, I shall listen."

He nodded, and stared at his hands. "We never loved one another. To be fair, for a time I thought I loved her, and I was foolish enough to believe that she loved me. Then the years passed, and Bess was born, and I truly thought that she would bring us together. But she drove us apart, forcing us to take entrenched positions as to whom was given the most love. With her painting and her art and her sculpture, Amy was best fitted to amuse an artistic child, and I could only watch, could only offer money and music lessons, as my daughter grew further away from me, grew into a beautiful cold inhuman statue, who cared only for clay and paints. I despaired sometimes, and by the time Bess was twelve Amy and I rarely spoke even." He paused, and brushed at his eyes. "So I asked her. I sat down beside her, and took her hand and asked her if she loved me. And she laughed. You have never heard a chilling laugh, until it's been uttered by a beautiful woman."

With sympathy Jo clutched the hand he had offered. "Go on," she murmurred, feeling as though she pried, and yet desperate to know if she could help.

"She laughed," he continued, "and said 'Theodore, did you ever suppose I did?' There was genuine surprise in her voice. Then she added to her words. 'I've been a dutiful wife in every respect that you could possibly wish, you have been an excellent husband, and we have a wonderful child. What more could you wish?' I didn't have an answer. I need to leave Jo, leave a dream turned sour, a Parnassus that has become a Tartarus. I need to take my daughter and go for at least a time, yet I cannot bear the thought of leaving you here."

Reaching her hand to her eyes, Jo found them wet. "Oh Laurie," she sighed, feeling very much as though her sister was at fault, yet torn by the filial feeling she ought to bear her youngest sister, and the deep and sincere friendship she shared with her best friend. A strange feeling thumped through her veins, and she realised with a start what it was. Something she hadn't felt in years was pouring through her, the spirit of adventure, of daring and something else that she couldn't quite name. She tried to laugh it off- the thought of her and Laurie, middle aged dashing off to Europe as though they were fifteen and seventeen respectively was laughable, even ludicrous, and yet something called to her in the notion, and it was with the spirit of the younger Jo, that she lifted her head. "Yes," she said clearly. "Yes, I will go with you and Bess." She drew in a deep shuddering breath as she realised what she had offered, but the words had been spoken and nothing could bring them back.

For the rest of the evening, they began laying out plans, as though they were children again. Laurie with an eye to the seemliness of the venture, proposed to speak to the Professor about the notion, citing Jo's health, while Jo was to begin organising running the household smoothly in her absence. A dreamlike atmosphere clung to the whole endeavour, as though it could be fractured by the smallest noise or misstep.

Mr Bhaer listened most carefully to Laurie, and at the end folded his spectacles and rubbed his eyes wearily. Age was beginning to catch up with him, and he no longer felt as well as he might. "Brother Laurie," he said gravely. "This is a good thought of yours. My Jo is very weary, and perhaps no longer feels the same joy in her work as she once did. Perhaps as well as a physical recovery, there can be a spiritual one for you both. You look as tired as she does. I can think of no-one to whom I could more safely entrust her welfare. You know her better than I do..." as Laurie made to protest he held up a hand, "it is true. I think only you could persuade her to undertake this voyage."

Laurie shook the older man's hand warmly, and repoked the fire. "I shall do my best by her," he promised with the utmost sincerity. "She is very precious to us all."

"Indeed," was the reply. "You said that Bess is going? Does her gentle mother Amy not wish to attend such a voyage?"

Laurie took a sip of the claret cup he was holding, and reflected. "Amy has very much to do here," he replied, "she does not wish to leave Parnassus unattended, and she has expressed a wish to be alone for a little time." The claret cup was thick and sweet in the back of his throat, warming his stomach, but leaving a faint aftertaste in his mouth.

"I see," replied Mr Bhaer, and coughed into his large handkerchief. "When do you wish to go?"

"With anyone else I would advise them to wait until spring before beginning such a voyage. But in this case, if we go after Christmas, in perhaps two months time, then we should arrive in spring and the better weather. It would give us plenty of time to prepare all necessary details."

The other man nodded slowly. "That is a good idea. Spend Christmas with us, then afterwards go."

After her period of feverish excitement, Jo relapsed into an attack of influenza, further complicated by the pnuemonia that the cold weather brought on. It was pitiful to hear her cough, but she fiercely resisted any attempts to prevent her from writing, or organising the household from her bed. She made copious lists of things she would have to take, and of what must be done, and more times than could be counted, mutinied at the thought of the journey coming, and insisted she would stay. One night, she stared up at the ceiling. It was a month until Christmas, and her breathing was still hoarse and raggard, and she was even thinner and weaker. Sometimes it panicked her this sensation, and she longed to moan and to toss and turn, only with difficulty restraining herself. Meg and Daisy were perfectly capable of looking after the household she told herself. Rob had shocked them all, by taking an offer from Yale to study further, causing not a few raised brows. Ted was more than old enough to look after himself, and with such a profusion of people looking out for him around, he could scarcely go wrong. Fritz, she felt a pang at leaving, but that was only natural, and he would be well looked after in every respect.

Christmas came, and many of the old boys were reunited, some travelling especially to see Jo, knowing she would not be there for some time. Neither Emil nor Franz could be there, but it had been arranged already that they would meet in Germany at some point. Nat of course was there, arm in arm with Daisy, both Dolly and Stuffy had popped by to wish a Merry Christmas to the travellers, but the best surprise of all was Dan. No-one had expected to see him since he had been so busy amongst the Indians, fighting their corner, but he had made the trip, not only to see Mrs Jo, but to catch a glimpse of Bess before she left. It was a bitter sweet Christmas, a Christmas it seemed of partings. It seemed to Jo as though by a flash of foresight that it would be the last time she would ever see Dan, and she embraced him especially tight, feeling in her heart that maybe she loved this black sheep just a very little more than her flock of white, and he seemed to feel the same way, for he muttered several incoherent words that meant more to her than the most eloquent speech before he stepped away. His eyes sought Bess, but he did not go any nearer, feeling as though it would be sacrilige, one hand stealing to his breast where he kept his locket, before he boarded the train. She however drew closer to him and held out her friendly hand, which he could not help but take. Then with sisterly grace she imprinted a kiss upon his brow. "Be well," she whispered to him, as though sensing he needed a word of encouragement, and he broke loose before he said something he regretted.

Mrs Jo sighed, but alas she had more pressing things on her mind. Her trunks were packed with everything she could possibly need, everyone knew all that she could tell them, all that remained was to board the steamship. It was with a sinking heart that she embraced her flock farewell, and when it came to Fritz she could barely restrain tears. Onboard she waved at the departing figures until all that remained were specks in the distance. Curiously she had expected to feel downcast and sorrowful, yet she felt cheerful and lightened. She was surprised to see these emotions mirrored on Bess's face, and made a mental note to use this voyage to become better acquainted with her niece.

The cabins were scarcely spacious, but as Laurie said cheerfully, they would do. The ship's library was well stocked, they had a decent piano, and there seemed to be little more that they could possibly need even on such a long voyage. They had agreed that it would be better to have an individual task each to do, to pass the time and to have something to focus on. Jo wanted to get a good start on her next novel, Bess was determined to improve her music, and Laurie though he hadn't thought of anything yet was perfectly agreeable to anything that might turn up. It definitly looked the start of an adventure.

First chapter. It'd be nice to get some reviews!

A.W.


	2. Chapter 2

_Title: A Bloom in Age_

_Fandom: Little Women/ Jo's Boys_

_Pairings: future Laurie/ Jo, present Jo/ Fritz, Amy/ Laurie_

_Rating: PG-13_

_Chapter: 2/?_

_A/N: This story has been designed as a way to believably get Laurie and Jo togther. It takes place after Jo's Boys, and adheres reasonably to the morality of the time, and I have tried to get the author's style to an extent. Neither Amy nor Fritz Bhaer are made hate figures._

_Summary: Love does not always have to bloom in youth and beauty. There are other types of love, slower and deeper, and Jo and Laurie find such love. Set a year after Jo's Boys. Adhers to canon_

"Jo," the tall handsome man hailed the slender figure leaning over the rail. Jo turned and smiled at Laurie, her cheeks whipped pink by the fresh air, and slight wind until they seemed almost healthy. Her dress and wrap both in a peculiarly becoming shade of blue were blown by the wind, and in one small gloved hand she was holding a book which she had obviously abandoned for the more entrancing spectacle of the waves.

"Laurie," she replied breathlessly, "oh do look at the waves," and with her free hand she pointed to the beautiful sight beneath them, white froth stirred up by the ship's passage.

He smiled affectionately at her excitement. "It is truely beautiful," he agreed. "Perhaps Amy is not the only artist in the family."

Jo smiled up at him- tall for a woman though she was, Laurie was taller still. "Alas not Laurie," she chuckled. It was one of the family jokes that Jo's skills extended only as far as the pen she wielded, not to the brush and pencil that were Amy's favourite weapons. "But tell me," she asked, as she turned away and took his arm. "What were you looking for me for?" She shielded her eyes with her book as she gazed up at the seagulls.

"I merely wanted to ask how Bess was feeling, and whether she is well enough to dine at the captain's table tonight. He has enquired anxiously after her welfare, and offered several times to send the physician down." Laurie said, laughing heartily at the memory, yet with genuine appreciation in his voice for the kindness of those around him.

"She is very much better. Now the sea is a little calmer, she is quite recovered, and indeed she took a promenade with me around the ship's deck not an hour ago. She would be charmed I am sure to dine tonight." Jo replied with a bright look, for Bess's welfare had worried her very much, so unaccustomed was the Princess to sickness such as had overcome her on entering the ship.

Smiling with relief, Laurie guided Jo to the chairs. "I am heartily glad neither of us are prone to sea-sickness," he said with humour. "That prospect would have been daunting indeed if so." He turned and surveyed Jo's countenance. "You look much better," he said with perfect truth. The pink colour in her cheeks, the brightness of her eyes and smile alleviated the thinness of her form, which the blue dress also helped disguise. She still looked much younger than her age; the bones in her wrists childlike, but she no longer looked next to death's door. She smiled at him.

Then looking at the time she shook her head. "I have been out here so long," she said in wonderment. "It is time to be dressing for dinner indeed. I should help Bess also." Rising, she looked down at Laurie. "I shall see you at the table I presume," she said, a smile hovering around her mouth, and on receiving his nod of assent moved towards the exit from the deck.

Down below she came upon Bess struggling with her hair. Jo, stooped and picked up the hairbrush, rather amused to see her niece in such a temper; it was so rare to see Bess out of countenance about anything. "Shh dear," she calmed the younger girl, and plying the hairbrush with skill she easily had the hair as silky as it was wont to be. Bess relaxed, and smiled gratefully at her. Jo shook her head. "Why did you not call the maid?" she asked.

Bess's smile dimmed, and she swept her lashes down. "I didn't want to," she said quietly. "The only reason I have a maid at home, is because mother wanted me to. But I am so tired Aunty of having someone comb my hair, and dress me and pick up my things, as though I am nothing more than a doll, a beautiful doll to be arranged on a little chair and looked after." She looked up with eyes full of appeal, in colour so like her mothers, yet in expression so similar to her fathers, and with all the will in the world Jo could not have resisted them, even if she hadn't believed Bess was in the right. "I am old enough that I should be at least thinking of making my way in the world. After all what if I hadn't a rich father?"

Jo stooped and kissed her on the forehead. "I understand you," she said softly, and she did. As she brushed Bess's soft golden hair, and helped her twist it back in the pretty style she so often wore, she realised she had done the girl a disservice. In seeing Amy's golden hair and blue eyes, she had simply assigned her younger sister's personality to her as well, and yet gazing at Bess's face she could see as many traces of Laurie within it as Amy, and surely it must be the same with her personality. As at the beginning of the journey, she resolved to try penetrating deeper into her niece's mind, already heartened by the confidence given. She shook out a soft white dress and left it on the bed- Bess's figure was good, and Amy did not believe in corsets, and went into her own stateroom to change. That was a simple enough matter- a crimson merino dress, that she knew she looked well in, high collared with white lace at neck and wrists, then back in to help Bess with her ribbons.

The captain greeted them both personally with many compliments- an amiable grey haired man who insisted Jo sit at his left. Laurie ever mindful of Bess and her shyness with strangers, allowed her to sit between him and Jo. The dinner was as good as could be expected two weeks out to sea, and the captain in honour of the ladies had uncorked a good vintage of wine, and insisted that both Jo and Bess try a little to aid their convalescence. Laurie's promise to Meg only barred him from strong drink not wine, and he joined them in a toast to the voyage. More than one of the officers could not take their eyes from the elegant figure of Bess

Both Bess and Jo were still weak- one from her bout of pnuemonia, the other from seasickness and after dessert, resolved to retire early to their stateroom there to read out loud until sleep came to them. Mindful of Bess's wishes, Jo told the maid her services would not be required that evening, and helping Bess with her dress, managed gently to get the younger girl into her bunk. Then sitting down she withdrew her copy of Shakespeare's sonnets, and sat down to gently read out loud. Bess sat up a little to listen better, and drew a deep breath at the end of the first one. "Please could you read some of my Blake to me?" she begged.

Jo smiled at her eagerness, "of course my dear," and replacing the Sonnets, she drew down Songs of Innocence and Experience, while Bess sat ready with her pencil and sketchbook. Turning to 'Earth's Answer' she began to read it quietly, not raising her head until the last verse.

'_Break this heavy chain_

_That does freeze my bones around_

_Selfish! Vain!_

_Eternal bane!_

_That free love with bondage bound.'_

Setting it down she glanced at Bess, and was astounded to see two solitary tears trickle down the beautiful face. "Why what is the matter?" she exclaimed, rising instinctively.

Bess made a heroic effort to stem her tears, and suceeded. "I'm so sorry," she managed. "It's just that's what I want. I want what Blake has."

Jo came over and took her hands in her own. "My dear," she said quietly. "I am your aunt, your mother's sister and your father's friend, and I care for you who are my flesh and blood more than I can express. Anything you say to me, will remain with me. If you can open your heart do, to release pain and sorrow is good, lest it withers you from inside."

Bess looked up at her with renewed hope. "Oh please," she breathed and her heart was entirely in her eyes. "I _want _to be an artist, I want it with such a passion and such a need, that I feel almost sinful, I want it in the way that grandfather wanted to be a musician, that you wanted to be an author, that Aunt Meg wanted to be a mother. I want it almost as much as father wants..." she stopped, and pressed her lips tightly together as though to punish them for indiscretion. "I _need _to let my art be free. I don't want to copy grand statues, or sketch pretty pictures of cottages, and I feel as though I'm dying so slowly from inside myself." She clutched Jo's hands so hard that it hurt.

Jo gazed at her bewildered. She had never suspected such a fund of passion and vehemnance from her beautiful niece. "I see," she uttered. "Can you not tell your mother?"

Bess released her hands in a gesture of despair. "Never. Mother thinks art is what she and I do pottering in a studio, creating pretty pieces for friends and neighbours to admire and love, and art critics to sneer at. She would be horrified if I told her that far from prizing my best piece of work, I wished nothing more than to smash it to the ground and grind it to pieces. She waits until a young, handsome artistic man comes, who will make me a trophy to show off- his beautiful artistic wife. For her this is not something I could earn my bread by, it is play."

"What about your father?"

"Perhaps father will understand me, but I am only a girl, a weak girl. If I was a man I could run away, or be sent away like Nat to nurture my talent, but I am so used to beauty and comfort that I am lazy. Besides if I did run away I could not survive in any sort of manner. It's just so many things are denied. Life classes, indeed any sort of classes apart from watercolouring and that sort of thing. In Paris, Vienna, Rome and London there are girls in the art academies, but in America with our middleclass morality, and our prudishness girls are considered either only as wives and mothers, or as bluestockings like Nan who will never wed. There is no section of society where art and music are accepted."

Bess was so fevered as she spoke on her subject that Jo feared for her health, and bringing her a glass of water she said soothingly. "We shall talk more in the morning. I swear I shall try to help you, but you must let me talk to your father on the matter, he is wise and he loves you greatly." On recieving Bess's assent, and observing the girl's eyes were already drooping, Jo retired to her own bed greatly disturbed in mind. So many new sensations were flooding back to her that it was troubling her. From the spirit of youth and adventure that now ran through her veins since Laurie had proposed this trip, to remembrance of the wilfulness of her youth, the wildness to be left to go her own way. She seemed to see in Bess, the girl she had once been.

Rising early she made her way to the library she spent part of each day in, working on the manuscript of her new book. Yet this morning as she sat down to read it, it seemed empty and ponderous, the writing stilted, the characters unnatural and goody-goody, with none of the freshness of thought and mind behind it that she prided on there being in her work, and putting herself in the position of being eighteen again, she knew with certainty that her eighteen year old self would have laughed at the very idea of writing such a thing. It was nearly finished- but a chapter to go. She made some notes on a piece of paper, then ignoring the breakfast bell, she wrote on through until lunch. Twice Laurie and Bess peeped in, but seeing her so engrossed in her work, they left her to write on. As she messily finished it with a scrawled The End, and scratched off a letter to her publisher, she sighed a sigh of relief, and made it up into a parcel, the captain having already obligingly said he would be more than willing to take back any post they wished on his return journey.

As she left the library she met Laurie on his way to inform her lunch would soon be ready. He was struck at once by her cheerful aspect, and the air of lightness that surrounded her, and instantly inquired as to why she was so lighthearted. Jo smiled at him. "I've finished my book," she said, and continued instantly with, "and I've vowed not to write another word until I've found something actually worth writing about, something that calls to me to write it."

Laurie looked at her quizically. "I've never doubted your work before," he said in answer.

"Thank you for the compliment kind sir, but I have decided to stop writing for the sake of it. Though I must speak to you, and soon on Bess." She would not listen to a word of his entreaties about what, judging the lunchtable an unsuitable place for such a delicate business, and waiting until they were on the nearly deserted deck before enlightening him, by which point he was nearly dancing with impatience. "Laurie what are you going to do with Bess?"

The question nonplussed him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean do you intend to let her be an artist, or are you going to keep her in captivity?"

Laurie was totally bemused. "I don't understand Jo, she's never said a word about properly being an artist, and surely she is of an age where she should start to be thinking about marriage. Keeping her in captivity? Surely that's a bit of an overstatement?"

In the briefest and most succinct way she could, Jo related the events of the night before to his horror stricken face, and ended with concluding that Bess was too high spirited and free willed to be denied her way for long, and mindful of her promise to Bess she pleaded her niece's case. "Bess is so talented, and she loves you so very much Laurie. It's why she has never mentioned it to you, she thought it would sadden you."

"And her mother?" Laurie's face scarcely changed expression- perhaps only Jo could have noticed the slightly tightened lips, and the drawn skin around his eyes.

Jo stared at the horizon dreading having to answer. "Bess doesn't want to tell Amy. She believes her mother can not understand what motivates her decision, and cannot bear the idea of telling her that marriage shall have to wait until her ambitions have been fulfilled. But this is something you should discuss with Bess. It is too important to leave until another time, not when she has finally felt confident to tell us her heart's wish." She looked back at Laurie, and remembered something Bess had said. "Laurie Bess told me she wanted this chance almost as much as you wanted... and then she stopped. If it is not breaking a confidence would you tell me? I care for you so much that I wish you had everything you wanted. If it is to do with retrieving Amy's love..."

She got no further, because Laurie's eyes suddenly blazed with passion. "It is nothing to do with Amy. Jo my dearest friend, can you understand that Amy _never _loved me? I cannot retrieve it as I never had it." He seized her hand convulsively. "Do not ask me what I want. It is wrong, too wrong to be put into words, and yet if you asked me I couldn't help telling you, despite the rift it would bring down between us inevitably." His eyes were filled with a tormented fire, and squeezing his hand Jo vowed silently with her eyes to ask him no more, though her curiousity was raised to its peak point.

_Well chapter two finished. Feedback very welcome and I hope I've managed to build up a bit more plot!_

A.W.


	3. Chapter 3

_Title: A Bloom in Age_

_Fandom: Little Women/ Jo's Boys_

_Pairings: future Laurie/ Jo, present Jo/ Fritz, Amy/ Laurie_

_Rating: PG-13_

_Chapter: 3/?_

_A/N: This story has been designed as a way to believably get Laurie and Jo togther. It takes place after Jo's Boys, and adheres reasonably to the morality of the time, and I have tried to get the author's style to an extent. Neither Amy nor Fritz Bhaer are made hate figures._

_Summary: Love does not always have to bloom in youth and beauty. There are other types of love, slower and deeper, and Jo and Laurie find such love. Set a year after Jo's Boys. Currently adhering to canon_

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Jo had expected their next meeting to be more fraught than in the event it was. She supposed, there was only a certain length of time that high drama could be sustained for, and certainly meeting Laurie at dinnertime was no more tempestuous than the average bath tub. Her over- active brain was still trying desperately to imagine what secret could be bad enough that Laurie could speak of it with such anguish and power. Her mind instinctively rejected those ideas that trod the borderline of morality. She _knew _Laurie, perhaps more than anyone else on the face of the earth and it was utterly impossible that he would involve himself in something sordid or demeaning either to himself or to his family. Yet nothing came even to her vivid imagination that could conceivably be even close to the truth, and her promise forbade her from actively pursuing a mystery so interesting to her.

Dinner was a quiet affair, with Laurie pre-occupied with his food, Bess glancing anxiously backwards and forwards between Jo and Laurie as though she were wondering whether her father knew of her ambition yet, while Jo pretended more interest than she felt in discussing the last novel she had read. Eventually the meal was over, and all three of them adjourned to the largest stateroom for an after dinner coffee and a discussion. Bess perched anxiously on the arm of her father's chair, and looked beseechingly at her aunt who at length took pity on her.

"Laurie, dear old boy," she said using the old familiar form of address. "Put your daughter here out of her suspense, with either a yea or a nay." Her hands stilled on her knitting for a moment as she awaited his answer, her fingers having been long accustomed to the art, though she still needed to look at it occasionally.

Laurie took a deep breath, and perhaps only Jo with two sons of her own could understand the cost he paid when he spoke his next words, like he was setting a nightingale free in the realisation that it might not come fluttering back to him. "My dear. I have written a letter to a great artist, he was a friend of my father's and for his sake I am certain he will receive us. He will assess whether you would benefit from further tuition, and if he believes so then we shall see what we can do," he hadn't reached the end of his sentence before Bess's arms flew around him and she was crying into his shoulder.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you so much." She sat back and shot a grateful radiant smile at her aunt. "I promise," she said with the dignity she had inherited from both beautiful parents, "that I will listen to whatever he says. If I am no more fit to be an artist than any other person with a modicum of talent I shall return home, and continue to play with my paints and my clay in my studio. And if by some miracle there lurks enough talent then I shall work as hard as it is possible for someone to work, and make you proud of me." She spoke simply and unselfconsciously, not knowing the effect she had.

Jo turned to Laurie, "she's exactly like you," she said with more than a touch of wistful memory about her.

There was a little bitterness in the smile that she was graced with in return. "She's so much more Jo. Which is what every parent hopes for from their child." He turned and brushed the hair from Bess's forehead. "Whatever Tosceti tells you, I shall be proud of you." He smiled again and stood. "Another walk round the deck Jo? Bess looks tired." Jo readily acquiesced and they made their way out.

When they reached the deck, Laurie allowed his smile to drop, as he gripped the rail tight, and stared over it into the sea. Jo stood beside him, taut with sympathy, allowing him room to be silent. The deck was almost empty for once, and she felt justified in putting one hand on his shoulder, letting him know that she shared his turmoil. "Jo," he choked out. "Oh _Jo," _and she felt her heart wrench. Still she said nothing. There was nothing she could say that could make unmake the choices he had made.

When later he had recovered enough from his anguish to venture back inside, they partook in a glass of wine in the large lounge that was their favourite. For the first time in a long time, Jo properly looked at Laurie, her eyes tracing his face, drinking in the changes that made him so different. Just as she was no longer the shorn tomboy of yester-year, so he was not the dashing youth who'd been a companion to her through so many adventures. He was a man- with a man's demeanour, still handsome (always) but with the wisdom of his extra years that the boy had never had. Yet still he was her Laurie, and always would be, through everything that life threw at them both, something that was hard for anyone else to understand. There were some people that simply made life worth living.

They talked quietly as always, until Jo realised the time, and excused herself to go and see to Bess. The younger woman was already ready for bed, hair brushed, curled up on the love-seat reading a book that she hid with a blush when she saw her aunt. Jo's curiosity was aroused, and she contrived to sneak a peek, as she poured Bess a glass of water and helped her turn down the covers. The title was in French, and when Bess saw her glance at it, she blushed until she looked as though she was on fire. Jo looked at it assessingly. It wasn't her place to judge what Bess chose to read, but she had a low opinion of French novels in general and knew that in her incarnation as moral guardian she should ask. Bess saved her the trouble. "Please don't tease me over it Aunty," she whispered. "Mother says it is such a waste of time to read books like that, but oh it is so romantic."

"I didn't know you liked to read," Jo said as she fetched another pillow, feeling easier in herself. Bess was just shy.

Bess nodded, blonde locks falling about her face. "We hardly go anywhere outside of mother and father's friends and occasionally to the city. I read once that to be a great artist you must experience all you can, and see all you can, and until this journey the only way to do that was through books. It's hard to find good ones, especially good interesting ones, but anything is better than nothing."

Her fancy tickled, Jo tilted her head, feeling once more that perhaps she had not done as well by her niece in the past as she had hoped. "I had hoped to use this voyage as a way to catch up on a lot of reading myself," she said casually, speaking nothing but the truth. Two children, and the care of a vast quantity of others, her own writing and running a house had eaten up so much of her time over the past twenty years, that she doubted if she read as many as four or five books a year, and more and more she felt as she looked over her own work, that it was lacking in the genuine inspiration that she had always hoped to find, and the key to that might be in other's work. "If you'd like I'll pass some books onto you." She was rewarded with a brilliant smile, and with a gentle kiss she left the room, dimming the light as she went.

On her way back to the lounge, she was so preoccupied with thoughts of Bess that nothing else intruded. When she looked through the door to spot Laurie however, she was more than a little surprised to see him talking to a young lady, extremely fashionably dressed. Laurie she knew of course would never act with impropriety, indeed was far less likely to than herself in most occasions. But it was still a shock to realise that women found Laurie so attractive. She came over, feeling awkward as though she were interrupting something. Closer to them, she realised the woman was older than she had thought at first glance- closer to late twenties than early, and dressed in what Jo was to realise some weeks later what was in the height of fashion on the continent, but which was at the moment quite shockingly low cut, and made her feel in her dark merino quite dowdy and old-fashioned. She turned a fascinating face towards Jo, who despite her initial reservations felt them melt away in front of the beautiful smile. The other woman stood to shake hands, and Laurie introduced her as Countess Maria von Tesch, an old friend of his who he had met originally in Germany.

"I have heard so much of you," the Countess proclaimed, having begged Jo to call her Maria. In amongst her initial mistrust, and subsequent melting, Jo found time to marvel a little inside at meeting a proper Countess- the sort she had conjured up many a time in the old thriller stories she had once written to fund her family. "Laurie speaks of you so often in his too infrequent letters, it is as though you are an old friend, and I have read several of your books translated into German." Despite meeting in Germany, being fluent in the language and her German surname, the Countess's accent was delicately French.

The evening flew by swiftly in her company- Maria had a fund of amusing stories and was adept at light conversation, as well as being well read. It transpired she'd been so ill for the first days of the voyage that she hadn't so much as ventured from her room even once, which accounted as to how she hadn't known Laurie was on board. Jo looked closer at the other woman and realised that she had indeed been ill. The dim lamps of the room concealed many things, but she looked tired and drawn, and her skin which must under normal conditions have been superb, was still wan. Despite that though she was ebullient and playful, and Jo found herself liking the other woman more and more. It was rare that she liked other women so much- Jo was truthful enough in herself to know that she preferred the company of men more, but Maria was such a charming creature it was impossible to dislike her. The Countess excused herself when the clock struck half past ten, claiming her illness, and Jo looked at Laurie who was looking at her anxiously.

Jo put him at ease instantly, saying with perfect truthfulness, "What a lovely person, I hope we get to know see her more. Didn't you want to have the chance to have a good long talk with her though?"

Laurie smiled. "It's a long voyage, I'm sure we're bound to get bored of all our friends before the end. We have more than enough time." He hesitated for a moment, as though he wanted to say something, even opened his mouth to speak and then thought the better of it. "I'm so glad you liked each other so much. She has been a good friend in the past." His eyes darkened as though with some painful memory. "I knew her mother well, Lady Victoria."

The part of Jo that never stopped thinking wondered for an instant whether Countess Maria, or indeed her mother had been some failed love concern of Laurie's, but dismissed it not only in belief of Laurie's faithfulness but also because the ages didn't match up. Maria was at least twenty eight too young for Laurie to have had an interest in when he was free, and her mother by the same token must be too old. She didn't voice any of this though, merely murmuring quietly, "meeting her makes me anxious to meet others from Europe." Not for the first time she was glad she was venturing there with Laurie rather than anyone else. There were doors open to him, that would not have been open to her otherwise, even as a celebrated author. She wouldn't have known where to knock. Laurie on the other hand through his parents had a ready-made pass into that world. Not merely through his money, looks and talent, but also from the fond regard his parents had been held in by all those who knew them. Hi mother's family had been impoverished true, but was remembered even now by the older generation as having been a scion of a famous family, and like her American husband in talent and independence. For their sake he was received graciously, and for his own qualities was liked and praised.

Laurie looked affectionately at her. "You will love it. I have a feeling that you'll never want to leave."

The days after that went by swifter and swifter, as they settled into their daily routine. Morning walks and exercise on deck, began their day before their breakfast, and then in various combinations they spent their day in useful tasks. Bess on Laurie's advice, began to compile and pick through the best of her sketches, and paintings, though she regretted being unable to bring any of her sculpture along as well, and also spent her time at the books that her aunt recommended for her, as well as course as the hours she spent in silent contemplation before she began her new sketches. Laurie on the other hand as well as practicing his music, had begun to compose again as he had not for years. Jo at her own advice had left her writing entirely behind until she felt compelled to pick it up again rather than writing just for the sake of writing, and spent her days reading, and in her own activities. The library aboard the ship was small but well stocked, and she was amazed at how out of touch she was with the world of literature. Many old favourites were there of course, but there were volumes that she'd never heard of, yet whose obvious power drew her to them. Laurie further amazed her by being blasé about them. "This is nothing," he said once when she had finished the first Balzac she had ever read, and shaken her head with pure satisfaction. "There has been a revolution in literature over there. Especially in France and England, stuff is being published that we would never dream of writing in America."

It had given Jo pause for thought. "What is so bad about these books that they aren't read in America?" she said with caution, unready to commit herself to hedonistic delight in books with the same passion that sixteen year old Jo would have,.

Laurie looked at her abstractedly. "Oh they are read," he amended. "By certain people in certain parts of America. There is much that could be termed distasteful to our senses. But equally there is much wisdom, and so much genius that nothing else seems to matter, to me at least." He smiled at her worried face. "Europe is different," he said quietly. "Much there will shock you. In England there is a trend against belief in God, in France there are still the rumblings of the Revolution and the accompanying freedoms that we should perhaps call licentiousness. In Italy the rules of chivalry are held, and morals perhaps not as stern as they should be. The authors write Tom Jones, The Reason of Mankind, Dangerous Liaisons, and while they may not believe what they write, society here is far more willing to listen than our own is."

There was silence as Jo attempted to take in what she had heard, blushing as Laurie spoke of morals and freedoms, aware of a struggle in herself, not unlike the struggle between her young and old self that had driven her to Europe in the first place. It was the struggle of religion, propriety, society, of every principle she had learned in her youth, against the lure of adventure, of the beautiful spread canvas offered for her perusal. The words Marmee had once spoken to her, she felt dimly applied here. 'Evil can look beautiful, and offer a pleasant face. There are people who will try and tempt you from the right path.'

'But,' she argued with herself. 'Laurie would never do that to me. Never seek to lead me from what was right. Surely he wouldn't.' Yet the voice of her mother was still there, speaking a silent warning. She looked up and saw Laurie's anxious eyes, and bit her lip hard. The world Laurie was offering was unlimited. Unlimited by the known and familiar, the safe and the conventional, and it was dangerous and thrilling in every respect. She would brush shoulders with people who had lost their faith in God, yet did not lack, eat with those whose situations were hardly those compatible with strict American morality. She shook herself mentally. She was thirty six years old. It was time to discover whether the values that she had struggled so hard to attain, could stand up to other people's conception of the world. It was prudish, she reasoned with herself to reject others, and their viewpoints simply because they did not agree, unaware that she was taking a first step into a world she would be left forever changed by. Now was the time to shout 'no,' now that Laurie had made her aware of what she might be getting into. But the moment passed, and neither of them acknowledged the brief silence.

"I would like to read Tom Jones," she said quietly. And with that she took the final step, and plunged into a new world.

* * *

Notes: One thing I really wanted to try and start developing was a way for Jo to abandon the rather stultifying moral sensibility of the later books, and retrieve the spirit of Jo (and the author herself). The chapter was very slow, but it's setting groundwork for some radical changes in Jo. Hope you enjoyed. Please review!


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